


Fourteen

by raiast



Series: The Bucket List [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Will, Bottoming from the Top, Domestic Bliss, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Shaving, Top Hannibal, kink list
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 02:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17820224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiast/pseuds/raiast
Summary: It surprised him sometimes, how much he trusted Hannibal now, after everything the two of them had put each other through. Manipulations, betrayals, more than one attempted murder and yet…And yet Will sat where Hannibal directed him to, more or less calm as he watched his lover set out his tools methodically. He had to admit, when he had picked the random number off the list this wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind, though it should not have surprised him in the least that this would be a fantasy of Hannibal’s.or:Will becomes familiar with Hannibal's blade, and then more familiar yet with the man's body.





	Fourteen

It surprised him sometimes, how much he trusted Hannibal now, after everything the two of them had put each other through. Manipulations, betrayals, more than one attempted murder and yet…

And yet Will sat where Hannibal directed him to, more or less calm as he watched his lover set out his tools methodically. He had to admit, when he had picked the random number off the list this wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind, though it should not have surprised him in the least that this would be a fantasy of Hannibal’s. He drew in a steadying breath, his hand raising to brush along his scruff and then dipping back to rub along the back of his neck in a telling sign of anxiety.

“Relax, Will,” Hannibal urged in a lazy murmur, guiding his head to tilt back as he wrapped a hot, moist towel over his face. “This practice is not entirely new to me,” he added sardonically.

Will closed his eyes and breathed in the warm air through his nose, willing his shoulders to drop the tension that had drawn them defensively up to his ears. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he felt he had to relay. Again, it’s surprising to find the words ring entirely true. His worry does not lie in the fact that Hannibal will be drawing a blade over his flesh, but in what the end result will show.

“It’s a new experience,” Hannibal continued the flow of his thoughts effortlessly, as he had always been able to. “One I hope will not prove entirely unpleasant for you.”

Will let his eyes remain shut as Hannibal removed the towel and brushed a layer foam over his face and neck with a soft brush; the foam, unsurprisingly, reminded him of Hannibal, the scent his jaw took after a fresh shave. Will knew what it felt like to drag his lips and tongue across smooth cheeks and chin, was intimately familiar with the smell that flooded his senses in the act. A bit of him thrilled at the thought of Hannibal being able to experience the same thing.

“I don’t think I need to instruct you to remain still,” Hannibal murmured as one warm hand moved to grasp the base of his skull and the other brought cool steel to meet his cheek, and Will grunted a noncommittal sound in agreement.

With only their measured breathing to break the silence of the bathroom, Will could hear the rasp of the blade sliding over his scruffy beard clearly. A pass, a pause to wipe the blade, and then another; it continued for several minutes as Hannibal meticulously groomed his cheeks and neck of the familiar scruff that acted as his barrier, his final defense. The movements grew noticeably shorter and more gentle when applied to his right cheek, and Will squeezed his eyes shut once again at the thought of what that implied.

Hannibal did not make conversation with him; the act itself seemed sacred somehow, and was performed in reverent silence. After the last pass had been made and any lingering foam wiped away with a warm towel they met each other’s gazes and it was left to Will to break the silence.

He swallowed thickly, his heart beginning to pump ever harder; he found, not without great irony, that he was more nervous now than he had been with a straight razor to his throat. “How does it look?” the question was soft, meek, and Will hated himself a little for it. He had never been a creature of vanity.

If possible, Hannibal’s reverent expression softened further still. He raised a hand up to cup Will’s jaw and brush his thumb tenderly over the fresh scar. “Fierce,” he answered honestly. “It will fade in time,” he assured Will. “One day you might scarcely notice it’s there.”

From complete force of habit, Will’s eyes scanned Hannibal’s face for honesty; he studied the draw of his mouth, the tightness around his brow, the earnest gaze with which he felt himself pinned like a specimen. He couldn’t detect any falsehood; somehow it was still little comfort.

“You are as beautiful now as the day we first met,” Hannibal elaborated. “Pure hostility and brusqueness in Jack Crawford’s office.”

Will couldn’t help but snort a laugh at that, feeling the tension in him ease. Before there had buzzed an uncomfortable anxiety to turn and glimpse himself in the mirror now, to see with no facial hair to conceal what damage the Dragon had wrought upon him. Now, locked in Hannibal’s adoring gaze, he didn’t feel the need to speculate for himself. His hands reached out to snag Hannibal’s shirt, pulled him close until Will could wrap his legs around the man’s waist and meld his lips to his own.

Hannibal wrapped his arms tightly around Wll in response, hoisting him off the bathroom counter and guiding them both back into the bedroom; Will locked tighter around him as he was carried, pried a soft mouth open with his tongue in a hungry kiss. Their moans mixed together beautifully. When they reached the edge of the bed, Hannibal let their weight fall to it, and Will found his hands moving with haste from clinging to stability to tearing away the clothes that kept their flesh apart.

With much stretching and wiggling, turning their desperate kisses sloppy, there finally existed no barrier between the two of them. Hannibal threw an arm out blindly to dig into the nightstand for the lube as they writhed together, the feel of hardened cocks brushing along each other enough to send them gasping, ratcheting their arousal to greater heights. Will spread his legs and arched up as Hannibal slid two slick fingers within him to stretch, work him open methodically; Will’s hips ground against the seeking digits with pleasured gasps, keening with a tortured mewl as his lover teased fingers against his prostate with every thrust.

When Will could stand no more teasing he tightened his legs around Hannibal’s hips, wrapped his arms around broad shoulders and threw his weight to the side until they were twisting, turning over, and their bodies settled into the mattress once more, this time with Will victoriously astride Hannibal. Before his lover could correct their position, Will circled Hannibal’s stiff cock in a firm grasp and hoisted himself up, guiding the thick member to his entrance and sinking down onto him with a shuddering moan. He paused for a moment when he sat flush against Hannibal, cock buried to the hilt in his ass, panting in pleasure and exertion at the stretch as he gazed down at his lover.

Hannibal brought his hands up to run reverently up Will’s thighs, smoothing over his hips before grasping them in a bruising grip and guiding them to shift up along his length and then dragging him back down. The both of them released a wanton moan with the action Will's head tilting back as he was filled completely once more; Will caught on quickly and took the lead, bringing his hands up to steady himself on Hannibal’s chest as he ground his hips up and down.

Hannibal rocked his hips up to meet Will’s thrusts, driving into him ever rougher when the action pulled a particularly indecent moan from Will’s throat.

“F-fuck...Hannibal,” Will whimpered, his head bobbing in encouragement as they both quickened their pace. “ _Yes_! Fuck, right there, yes--please--” his cries turned to indistinguishable whimpers as Hannibal shifted his hips to drive up into that perfect spot within Will with every thrust. Moments later he was quaking, sobbing with release, falling forward to meet Hannibal’s lips as he came undone. As their tongues wrapped breathlessly together, Will could feel Hannibal’s release pulsing deep inside him, gave one more moan and squirm at the sensation.

He dropped his forehead to a chest covered in coarse, silver hair, each intake of air a forced, shuddering thing. When their breaths had evened out, their hearts had ceased frantic pounding and regained a rhythm closer to calm, Hannibal grasped Will and shifted, tipping them to their sides. Will found himself wrapped in a strong and impossibly tender embrace, felt Hannibal’s lips ghosting over his temple, forehead, nuzzling into his sweaty curls.

It was just as Will was nearly drifting into sleep when he felt Hannibal pull away from him. Heavy eyes blinked open to watch his lover as he bent to the floor to retrieve his trousers, hand slipping into a pocket to remove a familiar piece of folded parchment. He moved to the nightstand to retrieve the pen he kept there, opening up the page to draw a line through number fourteen and, to Will’s surprise, another number as well.

When Hannibal felt Will’s curious gaze he glanced over to him, an uncharacteristically rueful smile quirking his lips. “Incidentally,” he explained, “Number nineteen was you on top.”


End file.
